A Song, A Psalm of David
Memories of a Visit to Jerusalem, Friday, June 29, 2007
If I wept when I first laid my eyes upon You
were they tears of sorrow or joy
or both, commingled in a prayer of gratitude
as I glimpsed Your shining walls and towers
Your rolling hills blinking clean and white
with Jerusalem stone, bathed in sunlight?
I first saw Your red-shingled roofs
and minarets, steeples, spires from
the overlook, perceived from a distance
that Your patchwork of pieces was inseparable,
each as much a part of the whole as each,
intertwined, not in quarters or halves.
As I ascended to Your holy mountain
I paused, rested in the city of David,
walked in her passageways, deep within
her bowels where ancient workers, hearing the
thunder of oncoming armies bent to hear the
whispers of the chiseling hammers, carving pairs
meeting in the heart of stone, creating arteries
to ensure that Your lifeblood would continue to run.
I stopped to look upon the mountain of olives
where, amid the sleeping graves of countless others
a new addition, interred, carefully so as to preserve
what came before, mouners suspended over history.
And finally I climbed Your holy shoulders
stood standing before the remnants of Your majesty
so powerful in their ruined state, yet complete
in my soul. Laying on my daily reminder to speak
of You, I contemplate Your work, and I am reminded
that Kol Hanishamah, all creatures of the world
Sing Your Glory!